


accessing TARDIS repair logs, please wait

by notjodieyet



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who: Scream of the Shalka
Genre: Can You Tell That I Want To Write Sci Fi, Family Bonding Experience, Fluff, I promise this is my last Shalka fic for the moment, It's Just At The End, M/M, The Master is Alison's gay robot dad, Thoschei, there's kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjodieyet/pseuds/notjodieyet
Summary: the master notices some glitches in the tardis and alison joins him in fixing them.
Relationships: Alison Cheney & The Master (Doctor Who), Alison Cheney & The Master (Doctor Who: Scream of the Shalka), Ninth Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who: Scream of the Shalka), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	accessing TARDIS repair logs, please wait

_ Search recipes for chocolate chip cookies,  _ said the Master to the TARDIS, silently.  _ Gluten-free, _ he added hastily, just in case Alison had any previously forgotten dietary restrictions. 

_ Recipes for gluten-free Tres Leches cake found: 5,001.  _

The Master cast his eyes up to the ceiling and groaned aloud. “Your ship needs a few repairs,” he told the Doctor, who was sat calmly in a plush red chair re-reading, for some Rassilonforsaken reason,  _ Jane Eyre. _

The Doctor grunted in response.

_ Recipes for chocolate chip cookies,  _ he commanded again.

This time the ship gave him a loading sound that was similar to five dissonant bells and a goose squawking in the background.  _ Sending message to Ushas: the Rani. _

“Please do not,” said the Master.

_ Message cancelled.  _

“What in the world are you looking for,” said the Doctor, sparing a glance from his Bronte novel. “The TARDIS just told me the cost of thirteen Mario-themed bandages shipped from America.” 

The Master winced. “Nothing,” he said. “Absolutely nothing.”

The Doctor hummed at that, but returned to his book. “Tell me if you need a hand.”

“I don’t,” said the Master, defensively.  _ Chocolate cookie recipes, _ he said firmly to the TARDIS, setting all his systems to the task. 

_ Grey geese often weigh about 7.3 pounds. Additionally, there is a leak in my 6th-dimenion East Wing kitchen. Please alert your partner to the issue. _

“I can fix it myself,” said the Master aloud, and stood up to go. “I’ll be busy,” he told the Doctor. “Don’t come looking for me.”

“Wait.”

“Hmmm?”

The Doctor hesitated. “Never mind,” he said.

* * *

The Master was elbow-deep in circuitry when footsteps approached from behind him. He scanned the heat signature without a second thought: human. “Hello, Miss Cheney,” he said, twisting a particularly tricky piece of wiring.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing things,” he said. Hopefully this would repair the search function as well, although his hopes were astoundingly low. The kitchen had been glitching even more than usual, disappearing and reappearing in several different dimensions and once overlaid on top of the secondary living room. Thinking of that had given the Master quite the headache. 

Alison didn’t leave, still, and the Master sighed. “Would you like to see?” he said, moving aside and continuing his work. 

“Yeah.”

_ Access TARDIS repair logs. _

_ Unable to access repair logs at this moment. Please hold. _

“You look upset,” Alison commented. 

The Master’s robotic features could indeed show expression such as general upset, but he’d been sure he hadn’t activated that at the moment. He was always so careful with what he showed around Alison. He supposed he was afraid of scaring her, and revealing how inhuman he truly was. 

He supposed she reminded him of somebody from a long time ago who he’d never been able to keep track of. The Master thought he could be better with Alison.

“Simply concentrated, dear. See, this part is meant to keep the room in one general area, if not a specific place. But it’s been…”

_ Repair logs accessed. Downloading. _

“Thank you. Erm, it’s not been fixed in a long time.”  _ Access repair logs for current location. _

_ Accessing. _

“How are you fixing it?” Alison cocked her head to one side. “Cool alien tools? Are you… shuffling around the molecules? Reversing the polarity? Do you have a weirdly-shaped hammer? Or… a  _ duck _ ? Are you fixing the TARDIS with a  _ duck _ ??” 

The Master pulled his hand out of the wall and displayed his tool, smiling a little at Alison’s enthusiasm. “Unfortunately, I’ve not found much use for ducks in a spaceship.”

Alison drooped. “Oh. It’s just a normal  _ screwdriver. _ ”

“Phillips head, dear.”

_ Access repair logs for current location accessed. This location has not been repaired in five hundred years. There are seventy-two other problems that need repairing in this location. _

The Master sighed heavily. “Miss Cheney?”

“Yes?”

“How do you feel about learning a bit more… hands-on?”

* * *

Alison and the Master, together, managed to fix twenty-three of the seventy-two kitchen problems before deciding that they deserved a break. Sweat dripped down Alison’s forehead, and a bandana kept her hair from obstructing her view. 

The Master was incapable of sweating anymore. He didn’t exactly miss it. 

“I believe there are popsicles in the freezer, if you’d like one,” said the Master, closing up the section of the wall they’d been working in.  _ Activate air conditioning for this location. _

_ Activating. _

Alison picked out a watermelon flavored one and began to lick it vigorously. “Please tell me they’re not a hundred years old and poisonous,” she said, half of the popsicle still in her mouth.

“I don’t believe so, dear. If you wouldn’t mind, I’m going to alert the Doctor to our work today.” Alison nodded.  _ Send message to the Doctor.  _

“What do you do when you look like that,” said Alison all of a sudden.

“When I look like what?”

_ Sending message to Theta Sigma: the Doctor. “When I look like what.” _

“Cancel message,” said the Master. “What is it, Miss Cheney?”

“You narrow your eyes and sort of…” She waved a hand around. “Retreat into yourself. Your nose is all scrunched up. What are you doing?”

The Master considered the question. “You are aware that the TARDIS hosts my conciousness, for the time being, yes?”  _ For the time being. _ The Master was still unsure if there would be any other reality for him. Any other reality than weekly touch-ups, the Doctor humming show tunes, his hands in the Master’s circuits. Any other reality than the constant monitoring of his artificial body and the complex robotics of his nervous system.

“Yes,” said Alison.

“I’m simply asking her to find things for me. Logs. Messages. Recipes.” He made a mental note to check the TARDIS’s search engine later. “You can, too, if you like.”

“Really?”

“She  _ can _ access your brain.” Noticing Alison’s discomfort, he added, “She doesn’t  _ do _ anything with it but translate things. I don’t think she can understand when you’re just  _ thinking. _ ”

“What if I thought…” Alison squeezed her eyes shut and thought  _ HOW MUCH DO GREY GEESE WEIGH  _ loudly enough that the Master could hear, too. 

_ Recipes for gluten free chocolate chip cookies found: 6,075.  _

(Well, that explained some of the shenanigans from earlier, at least. The TARDIS’s  _ time _ sensors were broken, not her search functionality.)

“That… wasn’t what I asked for,” said Alison.

“Those will be our next repairs, dear. What do you think about checking in on the Doctor?” said the Master.

“I’m going to make myself lunch,” said Alison. “Say hello for me.”

The Master nodded. 

* * *

“I’m very impressed with all your repairs,” said the Doctor, pressing a kiss to the Master’s temple. The Master went pleasantly warm, involuntarily. “Would Alison like to watch a movie with us this afternoon?”

“Mm… what movie?” The Master adjusted his legs so they were properly thrown over the Doctor’s lap and leaned on his shoulder.

“ _ Say Anything. _ ”

“Absolutely not.”

“ _ The Princess Bride. _ ”

“No.”

“ _ Star Wars. _ ”

“Only if we can watch something of my pick tomorrow.”

“Your picks are so violent,” the Doctor complained. “ _ Star Wars, _ but the third movie?”

The Master considered this. “Make popcorn. With extra butter. And salt.”

“Fine.” The Doctor kissed him again, this time on the mouth. “You are a marvel of engineering, you know that?”

“I know you adore to compliment your own handiwork, but is now  _ really  _ the time?”

“Always is.”

“Mmm.” The Master then kissed him quite solidly to shut him up. 

_ Entire TARDIS repair log: download complete. _

_ Shut up,  _ said the Master. 


End file.
